Waiting to meet a new friend
at the big-chain coffee place
off the freeway—convenient
for many people,
for many reasons—

I order what you used to:
iced green tea, no sweetener,
no ice. Medium. Or whatever
they call it.

The young barista punches
it into the register, reads
my request back, and I nod
as your proper green tea
order floats into my head:
extra large (whatever they
call that), lots of ice,
sweetened.

And when mine comes in
its plastic cup with lip-shaped
slit in the lid for easy drinkability,
it’s more bitter than I remember,

and here you are with me
in a spot of sunshine on
a spring-like January day,
as our patch of planet dries
out after weeks of storms,
whispering,

Get it sweetened next time.

And I think,
I already have.

(for Georgann)